


When She Whispers

by abrokefangirl



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Romance, fk i love those shield maidens, shield maidens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-09-22 10:46:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9604595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrokefangirl/pseuds/abrokefangirl
Summary: The great love of Ragnar's life came before any of his wives. And then she came again, returning after a twelve year absence, now the renowned Wanheda, to help her old friend finally sail west. A hero in her own right, she fought as well as she loved, and Mila did so fight fiercely.(btw I totally stole the name Wanheda from the 100 no regrets)





	1. The Return

**Author's Note:**

> Vikings fit for my vikings fan! No hate only love, but constructive criticism welcome. Staying quite on course with the first few episodes to show how Mila/Wanheda (who are the same person) fits into the world, and then hopefully branching off. Btw season 4 was killer :) and commenting gives me great pleasure! rest easy friends x

6 years old.

“Ragnar, come see quick.” Little Mila ran through the trees, her hair tangled and wild as she swerved through branches. Ragnar picked up with a speed he would lose in his later years as muscle replaced his childhood leanness. 

Rollo would often join them in their childhood games, but today it was just Ragnar and Mila. Young Ragnar would never admit it, but he liked those days best. 

“What have you found Mila?” he asked as he ran behind her. When Mila stopped abruptly she turned back and gave him a soft grin. Little Ragnar could not tell you why his heart skipped a beat, and even in his later years he could never quite understand how a smile could cause such an effect. 

She grabbed his arm and pushed him down so they were both kneeling. She was peering though a bush, and she turned to Ragnar with a finger to her mouth telling him he needed to be quiet. He settled next to her and tried to see what she was pointing to. 

It was a man. A large, fat, hairy man who was bathing in the river. When Ragnar saw him he grimaced and turned to Mila who was giggling. Ragnar put his hand over her mouth trying to keep her quiet, and he noticed tears were beginning to form in her eyes. He wanted to tell her off for making him look at such a thing, but also found himself starting to giggle. The pair of them broke into laughter, each trying to silence the other with their hands. 

The man, though no longer the fierce warrior he once was, still had a keen sense of hearing. He lifted his head, and with hawkish eyes he scanned the woods. Both Ragnar and Mila were too distracted to notice the man start towards them. It wasn't until he loomed over the bush they were hiding behind and grumbled, “I’m going to tell you’re parents you were spying you óþokkuligr (nasty) children!”

Mila and Ragnar looked at each other eyes wide, and broke into a run. The man, who they hadn’t realised lived amongst their clan, began to chase them. He followed them for a while, but their nimble legs were too much for his stature. 

As they ran they whooped and laughed, both scared and exhilarated. They were always getting into trouble together, usually dragging Rollo into it as well. As Ragnar ran with Mila he thought that he never felt more alive than when he was with her. In that moment he felt the beginnings of childhood adoration begin to bloom. It wasn’t love, not yet, for he was just a boy, and she a girl, too stubborn and wild to understand love. All Ragnar could say for sure was in that moment, they were invincible.

 

PRESENT

It had been a long time since Wanheda had been back here. She wondered what had become of her childhood home, and her childhood friends. She had left when Ragnar had married, the pain having driven her away. Rollo had been there, comforting and kind, even offering his own hand, like she knew he was desperate to. How it had all come to be, she wasn't sure, and if you asked her if she was excited to be back, she also wasn’t sure.

She walked the woods she had walked a hundred times before. Only one other time had she done it alone, however. She sighed as she neared Kattegat, and questioned once again why she had come back. She told herself it was because she now had a way to give Ragnar something he had always wanted, though for the most part she had been lonely. She’d wandered between villages and kingdoms, leaving her mark on some and passing quietly through others. She’d helped folk, by bringing down others. Rapists, thieves, murderers, she had been happy to strike them down. She could spend weeks searching for them, or a matter of minutes. But it always ended the same way, with her sword in their chests. She’d earned the name Wanheda, meaning Commander of Death. She had done other things to earn her title too, but most she would like to forget. Most people she had met knew her by that name, as she had kept Mila close to her heart. She had done many things in her years away, but none frightened her as much as seeing him. 

She knew today was the day the Earl chose where to sail. She’d reached the hustle of Kattegat, and found herself weaving through people. She kept her head down, wearing a hat to cover her hair and part of her face. Her kin had always known her by her hair, it was the first identifiable thing about her. Thick and long, she had always wanted to cut the nuisance, but Ragnar had never let her, and after she left she hadn’t the heart to.

The stories of Wanheda, spoke of a scar along her hand, a W. She made sure to keep that covered too, though only barely, as when she pulled out her sword she wanted her opponent to know just who they were battling. It was fair they should know by whose hand they died. 

Men and women had gathered in front of the Earl in the hall that Wanheda entered. It was crowded, and she didn’t try to seek him out. She would quietly watch the Earl pass his judgement, then she would decide what to do next.

A man accused of murder was brought in, and she knew something was off by the way the Earl’s eyes shifted. 

“It wasn’t murder Lord,” the man said, “I killed him in self defence.”

“Liar,” remarked a woman. The sister of the fallen, Wanheda thought. More words were spoken, some unnecessary. None peaked Wanheda’s interest until the accused spoke, “Lord, you knew about that land. You knew I had a claim to it-“

It was cut off by the Earl, “Enough. I ask you to look to the accused. You think that he is guilty? Raise your arms.”

Wanheda watched as one by one the crowd all raised their arms. She knew Ragnar was amongst them, she could feel him. Rollo too. She wondered if they would raise theirs. The man had murdered, that much was true. But his claim to the disputed land was also true. The vote had to be unanimous, and she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. Not yet. She hoped someone else picked up on the Earl’s wrongdoing, as she hesitantly raised her unmarked hand. 

“The decision has to be unanimous,” the Earl spoke, looking in another direction. She followed his gaze, and found herself looking at a boy. It was a boy she hadn’t met, but who looked like one she had many years ago. He stood on a table, below was Ragnar and Rollo both with their arms raised. Wanheda’s breath caught. She watched as Ragnar nudged his son, who then raised his hand unsurely. 

“You’ve been found guilty of murder,” the Earl said, drawing back her attention. “How do you wish to die?”

The man swallowed, “By beheading, my Lord.” That was a fitting death, it couldn’t be considered honourable under the circumstances, but Wanheda approved the mans decision.

The Earl set the death for tomorrow. “After which we shall feast, and talk about the summer raids,” he continued. He was met with cheers, and he strode out the room.

People started to disperse, though Ragnar stayed where he was for a beat. He could feel something was here. It was a familiar feeling, but completely alien at the same time, because it was different. It was changed. He couldn’t pinpoint it. His brow furrowed. Rollo nudged him, breaking his thoughts, he nodded at his brother and they started walking out the hall. Bjorn looked to his father, for he was still questioning the events that had taken place and needed his reassurance. But as he looked at Ragnar, he thought he had never seen his father look quite so confused in his life.

~~~~

Wanheda came to watch the execution the next day. She hadn’t been ready to make herself known, especially because things had changed around here and she liked to discover the circumstances, before she herself was discovered, whenever she went to a new place. 

What she had found she hadn’t liked. 

When she arrived a man was getting cabbages and tomatoes thrown at him. She must have missed his judgement yesterday. Her eyes scanned the crowd, taking the people in. She was still covering her hair and head, only with a scarf this time. Her eyes found Rollo as he gave a particularly hard throw that knocked the poor man down, allowing others to hit him. The Wanheda in her laughed, but Mila saw that Rollo had much changed. She always known he would be a formidable warrior, but there was a new darkness in him that she didn’t like. It was only a glimmer, but it left enough room for doubt. 

She noticed Ragnar’s son, looking unsure once again. This must be his first time, perhaps he would be getting his arm ring. 

The Earl and his wife came out for the execution, and the crowd quietened. The convicted man walked out with a smile on his face, determined to die bravely. Wanheda knew he was going to die well, and she hoped he would make it to Valhalla. She saw Ragnar make his son watch the beheading, the boys hesitation reminding her of their first execution. Ragnar's father had done the same, making both he and Mila watch the man who was to be beheaded. Only he had’t died bravely. He had cried and sobbed, his final scream silenced by the blow to his neck. Ragnar had taken her hand afterwards. She had thought it was for her benefit, but she had seen he had done it to ground himself. They had shared their strength and hadn’t flinched, and Ragnar’s father had been very proud. 

When she looked at Ragnar she knew he was thinking about that day too. 

The axe came down upon the man’s head and the crowd cheered as his head was lifted and shown to them. She was shocked at the next words the Earl spoke.

“I curse him. May he never enter Valhalla. May he never feast with the Gods.”

Wanheda felt rage at the Earl’s damnation. It was not deserved, the man had died with honour. The next time the Earl passed judgement she would intervene if she had too. For this was not the way, and she knew the Earl had wanted the land for himself. He had better watch himself, because he was exactly the kind of man she struck down. Men who abused their power were amongst the top of her targets.


	2. The Feast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope you guys liked the first chapter:) This one is a bit shorter, but the next is much longer! Just a quick note, I am referring to Mila as both Wanheda and Mila. I call her Wanheda, but Mila when Ragnar is remembering her or when she is with people from her past and feels a strong connection to her old self. Do you guys mind that? Or would you prefer for me to refer to her as one name and call her the other only when necessary? I was trynna do a whole 'symbolic thing' but let me know :))) anyway enjoy kiddos x

12 years old.

Ragnar was ecstatic to receive his arm ring. At twelve he was eager to be a man, and join his brother Rollo as an equal. 

Mila would receive one too. Though not for many years, and only when she was married, for they were used to symbolise her husband’s wealth. This did not sit well with Mila. Since her own father had passed, Ragnar’s had trained her as a shieldmaiden. She was extremely promising, and often beat Ragnar in their sparing sessions. Even Rollo, who was slightly older and larger than the two of them. She had immense skill with a sword at her age, and Sighurd, Ragnar’s father, knew she would be joining the raids no matter if she received an arm ring or not. It was simply her nature to find a way. 

Ragnar would help her, as would Rollo. For they knew of her dreams to be as fearsome a warrior as the tallest, strongest viking. 

It had been a hard day for her, Ragnar’s ceremony. She was bitter she could not join him, they had done everything together since infancy. But his excitement was infectious and she couldn’t help but be immensely proud of him as he took his vows. He was so ready, so sure of himself. She had stood with Sighurd and Rollo, watching as he swore his loyalty and fealty to the current Earl. 

When Ragnar went to kiss the Earl’s wife, Mila had wrinkled her nose. At her age the very thought of kissing was completely disgusting to her, and Sighurd chuckled when he saw her face. Though she was convinced the sight was simply unappealing, Sighurd knew Mila’s feelings better than she did, and therefore her real quarrel with this particular part of the ceremony. He was sure his son would feel the same had it been the other way around. But they were still young, and still too caught up in the glory of battle to take the time to understand their feelings. Sighurd knew that one day it would all catch up to them. 

Rollo, the elder brother, could already see the signs of womanhood growing in Mila’s face. Her features were becoming sharper, her breasts beginning to swell. Already a beautiful child, she would make a beautiful woman. It seemed his feelings were a bit more clearer than Ragnar’s.

When Ragnar had finished his journey to manhood, he turned and grinned at Mila and his family. Running over, he caught Mila in a hug, and his father gave his son’s head an affectionate shake. He proudly showed his arm ring off for the next few weeks, nearly driving Mila crazy. He had stopped after she knocked him on his ass in a spar, telling him that just because he was now a man doesn’t mean he was any better with a sword. 

~~~~~

PRESENT

Wanheda laughed fondly at the memory as she watched Ragnar’s son receive his arm ring. Still hiding in the shadows, she glanced at Ragnar and witnessed his pride. She felt happy knowing his son was very loved, and she knew Lagertha to be a good mother. Just because she had left didn’t mean she hadn’t kept tabs after all. 

The men cheered when Bjorn kissed Siggy, the Earl’s wife. Ragnar grinned fondly at his son when he made his way to him, and ruffled his head just like his father had many years ago. Just like every other time he pictured his childhood, he thought of Mila. He recalled the sight of her standing next to his father, and remembered he had never felt more pride than when she looked at him and smiled at his arm ring. He had wanted to give her her own one day. To mark how she had grown, and how she was just a skilled a warrior as he. A little part of him had wanted to give her one to tie them together, though now a much older Ragnar knew that it hadn’t worked.

“Let us feast,” said Earl Haraldsson, but Ragnar had something to say first.

“My Lord, we all want to feast, but we also want to know where we will be raiding this summer.”

And just like that Wanheda knew what was coming. Ragnar had always dreamed about going west. But he was being foolish, thinking that a public defiance was the way to convince Haraldsson. Wanheda had discovered he was a man of pride, and sighed as the exchange continued.

“Can’t it wait?” Haraldsson asked.

“No, we want to know. Tell us, we have a right to know,” Rollo piped in. Ragnar was happy he was showing he was on his brother’s side.

“Very well, we will raid East again. To the East lands, and into Russia.”

Ragnar stood, unable to control himself. “Every year we go to the same places. But there is an alternative, if you choose.”

“Ah yes, I’ve heard of these rumours, these stories that if you travel west, we will somehow reach a land that is rich and plentiful.” Men laughed at Ragnar, as the Earl went onto to continue that he would not risk his ships. 

“They’re my ships. I pay for them and I tell them where to go. Now that’s the end of the matter.”

“Not in my experience.” Ragnar saw a woman step out of the crowd. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed her as she was one of the few woman in the room. Though, maybe she hadn't wanted to be seen, he thought. He couldn’t make out her face, but something in her voice made him wait to see what she had to say. 

“There are lands west. I have seen them,” she said. The room went quiet.

“Who is that?” Bjorn whispered to his father.

“I don’t know,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving her. 

“You speak as if you have proof,” Haraldsson said coldly, in a voice that made Bjorn shiver.

But the woman did not back down, “Perhaps I do. Though I fear it would be wasted on you.”

“Enough, I will hear no more of this.”

“You will hear what I have to say Earl, perhaps not today. But you will listen if I wish you too.”

Something in her eyes made the Earl back down. It was an interesting sight, Ragnar could practically see him deflating at the woman’s tone. He simply said, “Let’s feast.”

The crowd stood up to make their way to the feast, but Ragnar’s eyes searched for the woman. She had slipped away, however, determined not to be seen. He burned to talk to her, ask her what she knew of the west. But she was gone. Little did he know she had gone outside and berated herself for stepping in. She should have left Ragnar and his madness alone, but she couldn’t help sticking up for him, especially since she knew he was right. 

~~~

Ragnar was eating with his son and brother, completely distracted until he was summoned to the Earl. 

“Ragnar Lothbrok,” he said as Ragnar entered and took a seat. Ragnar knew his fight was over as soon as the Earl began to speak. He was enraged at Ragnar’s defiance, and threatened to take his land should it happen again. 

“This will be the last I hear of the west,” he said, and all Ragnar could do was leave. He thought once more of the woman, wondered how she could seem so familiar. He would have remembered someone who claimed to travel west, he couldn't haven't met her before.

His son was tired as Ragnar pulled him from the feast and told him they were to see someone. He had been to the Seer before. Once he had even gone after Mila left, to see what had become of her and ask if he would ever see her again. The Seer hadn’t given him an answer, but sensing Ragnar was close to leaving his wife and children behind to find his Mila, the Seer had simply told him that he must stay. Ragnar had never told his son his awful secret, would never wish him to know that in his moment of weakness, after the aching of missing Mila had become too much to bare, that he had almost left his children behind. Bjorn still saw his father as a hero, and Ragnar, selfishly, would never wish that to change. 

When they entered the Seers tent, Ragnar sensed Bjorn’s hesitation. It was quite a sight after all. “Sit,” he told his son, and they both faced the Seer.

“What do you want?” the Seer asked.

“I want to know what the Gods have in store,” Ragnar said.

“For you, or for the boy?”

Ragnar leaned forward, “I’m more interested in myself.”

“The Gods desire you to have a great future. I see that. But they can withdraw their good will at any time.”

Ragnar nodded, “To have this great future, must I challenge the law?”

The Seer spoke, telling Ragnar that the laws of men are nothing compared to the Gods. Ragnar was going to ask another question, but stopped when the Seer held up his hand. 

“You once asked me a question Ragnar Lothbrok. Many moons ago. I have your answer, and that answer is yes.”

“To what question do you speak?” Ragnar urged. 

“You will see.”

Ragnar was angry that he wasn’t getting anywhere. He had been looking for absolution that his decision to work against the law was the best way to travel west. The Seer hadn’t given that to him, only talking of things long past. 

He and Bjorn left, beginning the long journey back to their farm. It wasn’t until the next day that Ragnar would get his answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a feeling you will be happy with the next chapter ;)


	3. The Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost posted the chapter here haha. This chapter is longer as promised, enjoy my pals! Let me know if you like it so far :)

Bjorn was whittling a stick outside his home, as his uncle Rollo pulled up to shore on his boat. 

“Hello young Bjorn.”

“Hello Rollo.” Bjorn was in awe of his uncle. His size alone was enough for anyone to cast a second glance. But his ferocity in battle was something to be admired. 

Rollo sat down next to Bjorn, and they began to enjoy each other’s company. Bjorn saw a figure emerge from some trees, and Rollo noticed too as it drew closer. She was wearing new clothes, her face and hair still covered, but once again in new cloth. They did not recognise her as the woman who had helped Ragnar the previous day. 

Rollo stood as she approached, “What is your business here?”

The woman stopped, only her eyes were visible and they caught Rollo’s. Rollo knew those eyes, though time had distanced him from recognition. 

“I once knew a great man who owned this land. He had sons, little scrawny things they were.”

Rollo huffed, “Scrawny? I do not think that is a word used to describe me.”

“Ah,” she said, “So you claim to be one of those sons. There was a girl too. A sister, perhaps?”

Bjorn looked confusedly between the two adults, not really sure what was going on. The woman was dressed like a wanderer, though she had swords at her belt, and he suspected there were more weapons concealed beneath her cloaks.

Rollo frowned at the woman, “She was not our sister. But she is gone, you will not find her here.”

“She’s a runaway then? Must be a silly girl to leave you behind.”

He growled, “Don’t talk about her. I’m doubtful of your claims, you were not known to her or to me.” Mila was always a sensitive topic for Rollo, even Ragnar never spoke of her with him. 

“Are you not angry with her? Surely you must be!” Rollo was getting angry, all this talk about Mila, all the feelings he had locked away were being brought up by a stranger. 

“I will talk to you no more witch!” He began to stride to Ragnar’s house, pulling Bjorn along with him. 

“Don’t you want to know what has become of her?” the woman asked in a much too familiar voice. Rollo stopped in his tracks, his breathing becoming heavy though he had fought no battle. 

Without turning around, Rollo whispered, “Mila.”

Now Bjorn had only heard the name Mila three times in his life. Once, when his father was weeping during the night and he pretended to be asleep, another when his parents were fighting and Lagertha had cursed the name. And now, when his uncle had whispered it like all his prayers to the Gods had been answered. 

He turned with his uncle, to look at the woman who had now taken off her head scarf. She had long hair, loose with braids like a shield maidens would be. She was tall, her face sharp and angular. She was beautiful. 

He looked to his uncle, but his uncle did not look back. He was staring at the woman, who had started to walk towards them. She smiled as she cupped her hand along Rollo’s cheek. Tears glistened in her eyes, but they did not fall. 

“Hello, old friend,” she said. And then Rollo was hugging her, his strength crushing her to him. She held him just as tightly and felt sadness and joy all at once. Sadness, because she could see the pain she had caused him. It had been written clearly all over his face. But he was here, and she was hugging him and that caused her great happiness. 

Ragnar, unbeknownst to them, stepped out of the house. His eyes were wandering the scenery until he caught sight of Rollo hugging someone. He stopped. He breathed. He stopped again. His eyes widened, and then he shut them and squeezed them tightly. He found she was still there when he opened them again. 

He fell to his knees, not knowing what to do. Not daring to move, afraid she might disappear again. “My Mila,” he whispered. He felt like weeping and laughing all at once. He was so happy that in that moment he forgot his anger. All these years he had been so terribly angry at her for leaving. Angry at himself, at Rollo, but especially her. Because hating her was easier than missing her. 

But in that moment all he could see was her. She broke from her hug, and turned. She saw him. She walked towards him. It felt like time was not moving as she drew closer, so slow it was. But then suddenly she was there in front of him. She kneeled down as he had, and put her hands on either side of his face. She begun wiping tears away that he had not known were there. 

She put her arms around his neck and hugged him. He held his arms out, unsure for a moment, but then tightened them around her. His face pressed into her neck and he was breathing her in. Her hair covered his face, and he was swimming in her. Her touch, her smell, their arms around each other. It felt like… home. 

Bjorn watched from a distance. This woman, who ever she was, had brought his father down on his knees. He watched as his father clutched her, tears falling from his eyes, and he then closed them and drew her in even tighter. 

He also watched as his mother came outside to see what was happening. Lagertha eyes were met with her husband hanging on, as if to his life, to another woman. Mila’s eyes opened and when she saw Lagertha, she broke from the hug and stood. Ragnar stayed where he was, unable to move, to apprehend that his Mila had returned to him. He was facing Rollo, who gestured at him to stand, though their eyes locked and it was a different conversation entirely. A conversation that seemed eternal in length, ongoing from the many years they had spent loving the same woman. Ragnar turned to look at the two women. 

Mila smiled warmly, “Hello Lagertha. It’s been a long time.” She went to hug Lagertha, who allowed her to. Lagertha didn’t know what to think. As she hugged Mila, she could see her husband’s tears and happiness. She was hugging the woman who her husband loved. Whose name he whispered while he slept. Whose face he pictured while they made love. And yet she couldn’t bring herself to turn Mila away. 

Mila had always been so easy to love. Lagertha knew, had circumstances been different, that she would have wanted to be friends with a woman like her. She was strong and fierce, everything Lagertha tried to be. But the circumstances weren’t different, and Lagertha released herself from the embrace. 

Mila turned to Bjorn, who was standing by his father’s side. 

“This is your son?” she asked Ragnar, who nodded, still unable to form words. 

She looked down at him, “What is your name boy?”

He looked up at her “Bjorn,” he said. “My lady,” he added.

She laughed, a beautiful sound that Ragnar thought he would never hear again. 

“I am no lady Bjorn. But you are definitely a man. That is an arm ring I see after all, isn’t it?”

Bjorn stood taller, and proudly showed off his new arm ring. Mila thought he looked a lot like Ragnar had when he had gotten his. 

“Are you an only child Bjorn?” Mila asked. Children were a great distraction when tensions where high. She also wanted to put Bjorn at ease by speaking to him as an equal, he had seemed wary of her when she first approached.

“I have a sister, Gyda.”

“I should very much like to meet her.”

Bjorn was ready to pull her into the house, but Ragnar spoke, finally becoming capable of forming words. 

“She shall have dinner first. She may have travelled far Bjorn, she must be hungry.”

And though Mila was not hungry, she agreed anyway, “If the lady of the house doesn’t mind.”  
Mila looked to Lagertha who nodded. Though she was not happy, she could not deny her husband a meal with someone who he had known his whole life. 

~~~~

They sat and ate, mostly in silence. Mila would ask the children questions, allowing them excitedly to tell her all about their lives. Rollo and Ragnar could do no more than watch her, each too scared to ask where she had been all this time. 

“What is that on your hand?” Bjorn gestured to the scarf it was wrapped up in, “Was it injured?”

“Something like that,” Mila smiled. She was not yet decided to tell present company that they were having dinner with the legendary Wanheda. 

“You have fought many battles?” Bjorn's eyes lit up.

“Some with your father and uncle. Some without.” 

Lagertha cocked an eyebrow, “Have you yet a husband?”

Ragnar felt a sharp pain in his heart. 

Mila laughed softly, “No, no husband.”

Bjorn smiled, oblivious to a past that was so close to being dredged up. 

Mila turned to Gyda, “And what about you? Are you as fierce a shieldmaiden as your mother?”

Gyda smiled shyly, “I wish to be. I want to help others, just like Wanheda does!”

“Wanheda?” Mila cocked an eyebrow, hoping she didn’t look to shocked. 

“Don’t you know of her?” Gyda asked excitedly, “She is the fiercest shieldmaiden in all the land. She kills bad men who want to take what isn’t theirs. Once, she even stopped a whole army from pillaging a village all by herself!”  
“Did she now?” Mila said amusedly. She remembered the fight, though the story had grown with her reputation. It hadn’t been an army… not quite. It always surprised her how far stories of her had spread, and how so many knew of her deeds. 

“Bed children,” Lagertha said suddenly, and began to rise. It was only then Mila realised the late hour. 

Bjorn started to argue, but Lagertha said more sternly, “Bed. I’m sure your father and his friend have a lot to talk about.” Ragnar was surprised that his wife knew him so well. She was allowing him to seek the closure he needed, because that’s what she expected him to seek. Closure. Nothing more. She would trust him, she decided. She would not push him away. And she would allow, just this once, for him to seek his answers. Besides, Rollo would surely want them as well, and would not leave the two alone. As much as she disliked Mila’s relationship with her husband, she also knew that Mila would not disrespect her in her own home. 

As Lagertha left, Mila was surprised she felt more uncomfortable without her. She supposed that because now it was simply the three of them, that she would need to explain herself. 

They sat there in silence, each not knowing quite what to say, or where to begin. Whether or not they should talk about the circumstances of her departure, or to simply question where she had been all those years.  
There was only one thing Ragnar was truly desperate to know, “Why are you back Mila?”

“I haven't heard that name in a long time,” she smiled. She felt like she was going backwards. The combination of their childhood home, the company and her name, Wanheda was becoming more and more distant. It was almost as if the past twelve years hadn’t happened. 

“What name are you known by?” Ragnar asked with sharp eyes, and Mila realised her mistake. 

“It hardly matters,” she waved it away. 

Now that the shock of seeing her had worn off, Ragnar was beginning to feel hurt and angry. Here she was, finally, after all this time. But she was evading his questions, and he was still without explanation, had been for so long now. He had sought one all this time, some sort of resolution, and she thought she could just come back and act like nothing happened. His anger rose. 

He slammed the table with his hand and stood up, “It does matter. It matters that you left. It matters that I do not know where you have been, who you have spoken to. And why you choose now to come back? Why now Mila? Why make me miserable for so long? Why are you here?”

“Ragnar,” Rollo warned, and went to stand up to calm his brother down. 

Mila held up her hand, “No, it’s ok Rollo.” She didn’t want to talk about the past. Not tonight. But she would tell him why she had returned. She owed them both that much.

She said the last thing either of them thought to hear. “I have come to help you take the west.”

Realisation dawned on Ragnar, “It was you at the feast.” He voiced it as a statement rather than a question. She nodded and he took a seat, allowing her to explain.

She had left soon after. Promising to come back tomorrow. Ragnar lay in his bed, his wife asleep beside him, thinking only of Mila as he had all nights since she left. Rollo had slept here too, eager to be there when she came back. Ragnar had wanted to ask her to stay, but he had still been worked up in anger when she left. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words. And now he was cursing himself, because once again he had allowed her to leave. Her words were ringing in his ears, I have come to help you take the west. When he had pictured sailing west, it was always with her by his side. But when he had pictured her coming back, he did not think that this would have been her sole reason. When night after night, he had imagined what she would say when she finally returned, it had been because of him. She would say how sorry she was, and how she had thought of him every day as he had thought of her, and that she wanted to be with him. But she hadn’t said sorry, hadn’t given any inclination that she harboured old feelings for him. She had simply said that she knew a way to get west, and that she would help him get there. He did not know what to think. There was so much left unsaid, all he could do was wait for her return the next morning. But he knew, he knew that it would all come out eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Wanheda sure wants to sail west hey ;)


	4. The Boatbuilder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a reminder that Wanheda and Mila are the same person (in case anyone is confused) enjoy my dudes x

Wanheda once again walked to the house she had left so many years ago. It was strange, now that she had seen Ragnar she was more eager to sail west than ever before. He seemed happy, with his wife and his home. That was all she had wanted when she left, because at that point she had given up any hope that they would be together. She could tell that Ragnar wanted to speak to her of them, but she did not know what that conversation would hold. Perhaps it would be better if the past was left in the past, and they concentrate on the matter at hand. In turn she was surprised to find it had been harder facing Rollo, she had hesitated more with him. She thought it was because he had never truly wronged her, and he wasn’t married. He was alone, perhaps that made her feel more guilty. But enough, Wanheda didn’t dwell on feelings. That was something Mila did, and she was Mila no longer. 

She arrived at the house the next day, greeted first by Bjorn who was eagerly awaiting her at the front. 

“Hello Bjorn, did you have a good sleep?”

“I suspect it was better than Father’s,” he replied. She was surprised for him to say such a thing, but not that he had picked up on it. He was a clever boy, she had figured out that much. Already he was too much like his father. 

“Father says we are to see Floki today,” he continued. 

“I see,” she said, “Ragnar mentioned him last night. He is the boat builder, correct?” She asked for his sake, as she was already too well acquainted with Floki.

Bjorn nodded. He seemed like he wanted to say something else, but hesitated.

“Something on your mind Bjorn?” Wanheda probed. 

“How do you know my father?” he asked. She paused, not knowing what he should be allowed to know. She decided to stick to the basics.

“We were childhood friends.” Wanheda suspected that was not the answer he was seeking however. 

“There is more,” he stated, “Mother and Rollo will not tell me. Father either.” Once again she was impressed with his insight, he knew more than his family gave him credit for.

Wanheda wasn’t sure what she was going to say, but luckily she needn’t worry, as Rollo and Ragnar came outside. 

Ragnar walked ahead of them, barely looking at her, “We must start walking. It’s a quite a way to Floki.”

Wanheda almost rolled her eyes at his blatant ignorance of her. He was angry with her, and he had been enough times for her to know the signs. But she would not succumb to him, she had come to help him, not play the same childish games that had plagued much of their relationship. 

She looked at Rollo, who gave her a smile. She didn’t know if it was because he was laughing at Ragnar. At least he seemed to be quick to forgive her. The walk would be interesting either way.

~~~~

In the end Rollo hadn’t come with them, he had other things to attend to. As Mila, Wanheda assured him she wasn’t going anywhere and that she would see him when they both returned. 

Wanheda sensed they were close to reaching Floki. They had met before, unbeknownst to the others. Wanheda hoped he would not give away her identity. It was strange keeping such a big secret from people who had once known everything about her. She had done many things as Wanheda, some things she wasn’t sure the old her would be proud of. When Rollo and Ragnar found out, then she knew she would have to face herself and what she had done. And she was trying to put that off as long as possible. They were the mirrors she would have to look at herself in. She would see her actions, her choices, and who she was in their eyes, and she wasn’t sure she would like what she saw. Better to prolong the inevitable. 

Ragnar had been thinking something similar. About how the Mila he knew was so different to this one. She had always been brave, always adventurous, always the first to put her hand up. That much was still true. He couldn’t pinpoint what was different, even though it seemed obvious. The most glaring difference was that the Mila he knew would have done anything for him, this woman he wasn’t so sure.   
Both of their thoughts were interrupted when a tall, lean man in a mask leaped in front of them shrieking. Bjorn jumped, and looked at the man warily as he took off his mask. 

“Floki,” Ragnar laughed, “This is my son Bjorn.”

“Hello Bjorn,” Floki smiled, “How are you?”

“Well.” Bjorn was taken aback, “Thank you sir.”

“Let me see.” Floki waved his hand in front of Bjorn’s face. “You have your father’s eyes.. unfortunately.”

“Why unfortunately?” Ragnar pretended to be more annoyed than he was.

“It’s because that means he will be like you,” Wanheda said, stepping out from behind him. Before Floki could have a chance to recognise his friend, she stuck her hand out, “My name is Mila, Floki. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

He shook her hand with a knowing glint in his eye, “Ragnar has told me much about you. Though which you is this?”

Ragnar looked confusedly, and Wanheda was ready to strangle Floki. He seemed to have caught on pretty quick and was messing with her. They had been friends for a long time, but that wouldn’t deter him from dangling knowledge over someone else as he always did when he knew more than them.

She was quick to change the subject, “So where is this boat that will take us west?”

Ragnar felt a little thrill at her including herself in the trip. It was what he had always wanted. Him and Mila, sailing to new land. But then he was jolted with the memory of her leaving, and he remembered he was mad at her all over again. She made it too easy for him to forget. 

They made their way to the ‘boat’, if you could call it that. It was barely finished, and would need much more work before it could make such a trip. Still, Wanheda could tell the boat was going to be a great one, one of Floki’s best. 

“Your work does you credit Floki,” she said, as she slid her hand along a railing.

He grinned at the compliment and went on to describe the structure of the boat to her and Ragnar. 

“But will it be strong enough?” Ragnar eventually asked.

Floki looked at his friend and said honestly, “We won’t know until we try.”

“When will it be ready?” Wanheda asked.

“As to that,” Floki said, “We’re out of money. We have to pay for the sail and then the anchor.”

Ragnar sighed, but Wanheda ran her hand through her bag. She produced a pouch of money, large enough to make Ragnar’s eyes boggle, and Floki’s light up. 

A million things ran through Ragnar’s mind at once, “Where did you get that Mila?” It was the first thing he had said directly to her since they began their journey. 

Wanheda looked at him, “I earned it.”

Ragnar could not help but think the worst. She was not the type to whore herself out, she’d cut a man’s balls off before she’d allow an unwanted touch. No, it had to be something else. Maybe she had worked for someone, or maybe she had gone on raids with another village. The thought of her raiding without him hurt. It was something they had always had so much fun doing together. 

“Tell me,” he demanded, much louder than was necessary. 

“Oh now you want to talk. It matter’s not Ragnar, only that I have it and Floki needs it. Besides that is not all I have for our expedition.” 

This perked Ragnar up, “What else do you have?”

Wanheda grinned at him, genuinely excited to tell him, “Why Ragnar, you are sure to be impressed. I have managed to get something we used to long for.”

The way she was looking at him, it felt like they were kids again, excited over some new plot they were planning. 

Ragnar came closer to her, his eyes were lit up and he was really looking at her. Looking at her like she held all the answers, as she so often had in their childhood. She was always the missing link, always had the piece Ragnar was sorely missing. They were reminded of how well they fit together, and Ragnar had never missed her as much as he did in that moment.

“What is it Mila?” he breathed. 

The way he said her name almost made Floki and Bjorn look away. It felt like they were intruding on an intimate moment. 

“Maps,” she said, “Of the west lands.”

“So at the feast when you said you had seen them?”

“I meant only on paper,” she winked.

She pulled them out of her satchel and handed them to Ragnar, who took them eagerly. In that moment they forgot about their anger, their sadness and their past. He lifted her up and spun her around, laughing. 

When he put her down she chuckled, “Go. Look at them.” He grinned and stretched them out over a nearby table, pouring over them intently. 

As he did Floki walked up to her. “And where did you get those Wanheda?” he whispered.

“Not now Floki.” They were quiet enough that Ragnar would not overhear. 

“You know, you once told me of a man you loved who dreamed of sailing west. What a fool I am for not putting it all together. It has been staring me in the face this entire time. He often spoke the same of you. A woman who left him, the only other brave enough to sail west with him. I always suspected thats why he wanted to go, so he could look for her there. How fortunate that she came back to him instead.”

“He’s married Floki,” she found herself saying. She had come to terms with that a long time ago, and marriage was something she respected, though had never really wished for herself.

“His greatest regret. Though who has come back for him? Mila, or Wanheda? He will find out eventually.”

“That’s not why I came back Floki,” she huffed.

“Isn’t it? he asked with a glint in his eye, and then went over to look at the maps with Ragnar. 

 

~~~~

Wanheda and Bjorn went for a walk to stretch their legs. Ragnar had them looking at the maps for ages, asking Mila all sorts of questions about the west lands.

“This one is England, it is small, but full of riches. They only worship one God. They say He created the world in seven days.” And so it had continued until they had gone through each land. 

Ragnar and Floki stayed behind to continue looking over them, but Floki suspected it was because he wanted someone to talk to about Mila. He couldn’t talk to Rollo, and he certainly couldn’t talk to his wife.

“So,” Floki said, “She’s back.” Ragnar had spoken of Mila often enough that Floki knew most of their history. He especially knew how much her returning would mean to Ragnar.

“That she is. Its not like I imagined Floki. I always thought she would come back for me, but she just seems intent on sailing west.”

“Ah, but that was a dream you shared Ragnar. And she came back to complete it with you. She had the maps, she could have gone herself, but she came to take you with her.”

Ragnar bit his cheek, “But she seems to want nothing more. And about those maps, how did she get them? She won’t tell me anything of where she has been these past years.”

“Perhaps it is best for you not to know. Or you could just ask her.” Floki wished he would, he was not good at talking about others’ feelings, much less him own.

Ragnar sighed, “I want to. But she is too stubborn.”

“So are you,” Floki grinned. Ragnar chuckled in agreement, “Yes so am I.”

Ragnar closed his eyes, “I missed her Floki. Every day I missed her. How can I have missed her so much, and still be so angry with her for leaving?”

“Because that is what love feels like Ragnar. It is agonising.”

“I do not think she loves me anymore.” This single thought had been playing on his mind since she had returned. He was being selfish, he knew that. He had a wife who was good to him, children whom he loved very much. But the love of his life had come back, and she acted as if he was simply an old acquaintance, with the exception of their first embrace.

“You must be very careful how you play this out Ragnar,” Floki said, Never a serious man, he was now speaking in a tone Ragnar hadn’t heard before, “A lot of people could get hurt.”

Ragnar grimaced, “That is what I am afraid of.”

 

~~~~

Meanwhile Bjorn and Wanheda were still strolling through the forest. Bjorn had been asking all sorts of questions. 

“Father said you were a great bowman when you were younger, but you carry swords with you. Why is that?”

“What makes you think I am not carrying a bow?” Wanheda smirked. 

Bjorn’s eyes widened as she lifted her cloak and showed him where it was concealed. She took it out and wore it on her shoulders, not bothering to hide it anymore. She was having a good time impressing Bjorn with her tales, she found it very amusing. 

“Can you show me?” he asked, and she smiled warmly at this boy who was so much like his father had been. 

He watched in awe as she equipped her bow, grabbed an arrow from the casing and took aim.   
“When you lift a bow, you must keep your elbow tucked in, or you will not hit your target. And just before you release the arrow, it helps it you take a breath.”  
Bjorn watched in awe as she shot a bird that had been flying by, it fell instantly and Bjorn ran to it.

“You got it in the eye!” He turned to smile at her, adoration lighting up his eyes.

She nodded, “It is best to shoot the eye, that way there is no wasted meat from the body.”

“Could you… could you teach me?” he asked, almost shyly.

Wanheda laughed, “Of course. But you are learning your sword first are you not? I can also train you in that. Ragnar has always been impatient, I suspect he is not always the best teacher, is he?”  
Normally Bjorn wouldn’t say a word against his father, but in this case she was right, and it was nice that someone understood Ragnar so well.

“He sometimes whacks me with a shield if he thinks I’m too slow,” Bjorn admitted. 

Wanheda leant down to his level, “I will tell you this secret Bjorn. His own father would do the same to him, for he was slower, than perhaps, he says you are. And one time, though he will swear this is not true, he was so surprised from the hit that he fell into a pile of sheep dung. He smelt of it for weeks.”

Bjorn was too much of a serious boy to break out into laughter, but he chuckled mightily and felt a weight lift off him. He was always so scared he would never be as good with a sword as is father, but Wanheda had put his mind at ease. She knew he needed it, and she was becoming so fond of the boy who asked so many questions. 

Wanheda chuckled with him until she heard a noise and whipped her head up. It sounded like a scream, and Bjorn heard it too and looked around with a frown. The trees where whispering with wind, as though they too had become on alert. She put the bow back in its casing on her shoulder, and located the direction of the noise. She was about to run in that direction until she remembered Bjorn.

“Is it honestly worth telling you to stay here?” she asked knowingly, to which he shook his head. 

“You really are just like your father,” she said, as they both began running in the direction of the scream. Twigs snapped under their feet as they sprinted. Wanheda knew they were getting close and she put an arm out to halt their run so that they would not make themselves known. 

She crept forward to an opening in the trees, which were much more dense in this area. She kept going until she reached a bush, Bjorn following her closely. She peered over the bush and grew enraged at the sight before her. 

“You stupid whore! I’ll have you if I wish to have you,” A man snarled as he was pushing a girl up against a tree, trying to undress her. They girl whimpered before she let out another scream.

“Shut up,” the man slapped her, but she did not stop fighting him. He pushed her head roughly against the bark, and she let out a whimper.

Wanheda reached her hand down slowly to her boot, Bjorn noticed the movement and watched with wide eyes as she pulled out a dagger. With deadly accuracy, she took a breath and threw the dagger, snaring the mans sleeve and pinning it to the tree. He let go of the girl surprised, and Wanheda came out from behind the bush, whispering at Bjorn to stay where he was.

The girl had fallen to the floor and Wanheda spoke, “Run love, he will not come after you.”  
She slowly rose, staring wondrously at the woman who had just saved her. She shivered as she adjusted her clothes so she was now completely covered. 

“Thank you, Gods thank you,” she said, before she turned and ran faster than Bjorn had ever seen anyone run before.

Wanheda turned back to the man, who was still trying to pull the dagger out of the tree with little success. She withdrew her sword, and put it under the man’s chin, who jumped and looked at her shocked.

Wanheda lifted her chin, “So what will it be? Castration? A limb?”

“You, you… do not touch me!” The man shouted, though his anger was masked by fear.  
“Is that what the girl said to you when you began touching her?” Wanheda’s voice was ice cold, “You seemed to have no desire to stop, so why should I?”

“Who are you?” he whimpered, as she had dug her sword closer into his neck. 

Wanheda, with a dagger in her other hand, cut the scarf off of her hand that was holding the sword, revealing her scar, not realising Bjorn had come out from behind the bush he had been hiding. She had fully intended on killing this man, because that was what she did. She killed men who did not deserve to live, but she let them know who was killing them first.

The mans eyes widened, and he scarcely breathed, “Wan- Wan-“

He was cut off as a small voice said, “Mila?”

Wanheda turned her head to Bjorn, who was standing behind her. 

“Bjorn, go back to your father, it’s ok,” she said, though she knew it would not be to much aid. 

“Are you going to kill him?” he asked, a touch of fear in his voice. And she knew right then that she couldn’t. Not in front of a child, and Bjorn, though wise beyond his years, was still very much a child. 

The Wanheda inside was raging, telling her to just do it, cut the man down like she had countless others. Anger often blinded her, but though she had only known Bjorn for a matter of days he brought out a softer side of her. Maybe it was because he reminded her so much of her childhood, or that he simply had a good heart.

She turned back to the man, “Listen closely. You will go to the Earl, and you will turn yourself in. You will not stop and speak to anyone except him. And if you do, trust me I will know. Everyday that you do not go to the Earl I will cut of your balls, and then your hands, your feet, until you are nothing but a head. Do you understand me?”

The man nodded, as well as he could with a sword to his throat. She lowered her sword and stepped forward, pulling the dagger out of the tree with ease and releasing him. He fell to the ground as she did, and scrambled up, barely casting her a second glance as he ran. 

Wanheda put back her sword, and lifted the scarf that had dropped on the floor. Hesitating, she turned to Bjorn. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” 

Bjorn shook his head like it hardly mattered, “Does father know who you are?”

Wanheda sighed, “He does not, though I will not ask you to keep secrets from him. A boy should be allowed to tell his father anything.”

Bjorn thought hard for a second. He did in fact tell his father everything. But he could see that this was not his secret to tell.

“I will keep your secret,” he said seriously, making Wanheda smile at how much older he seemed to appear whenever he adopted this tone. 

“You will be a great man Bjorn, you have your father’s curiosity, but you also have compassion. Thank you for your kindness,” Wanheda said. And she meant it. He was doing her a great favour, one she was sure wasn’t going to be easy for him.

“Besides,” Bjorn smiled warmly, “Who else is going to show me how to throw a dagger like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bjorn is a sweetheart, I love the kid who plays him! I think he is fantastic:)


	5. The Recruitment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Solarisday xx

Days later Floki had finished the boat, he was a bundle of nerves and excitement. Ragnar walked along its edge, admiring the work.

“It’s-“ he began.

“No need to say,” Floki said, “I see it in your eyes.”

Wanheda stood with Rollo, “You did it.”

Floki sparkled his eyes at her, “I did.”

The boat was long and limber, seeming delicate and strong at the same time. Wanheda was sure it would hold up on water, it looked as if it could go for miles. 

“Beautiful,” Ragnar finished, smiling proudly at his friend. Wanheda was proud too, Floki had nurtured this boat like it was a child, and the attention had paid off. 

“It’s only beautiful if it works.” Floki scratched his neck. 

They cautiously set sail, riding down the valley in between large mountains. They would approach open water soon, and there laid the true test. Floki became more nervous the further they went, he had crouched down at the front of the boat. Rollo and Ragnar were rowing, and Wanheda was standing with Floki, assessing the boat as they sailed. 

“Set the sail,” Ragnar said. Even louder when he was met with no answer, “Floki, the sail!”

“She’ll sink,” Floki warned, having lost all confidence. 

“No she bloody won’t,” Wanheda chided. Ragnar shot her a grin, the excitement wearing down the tension. The past few days waiting for Floki to finish the boat had been better. They still hadn’t spoken about their past, but they were both trying to act like it was the old days, because it was easier and really that was what each yearned for. Wanheda had decided to set her sights on sailing west, a dream from childhood that was now becoming a reality. Whereas Ragnar was determined not to be the first to speak of his feelings, he could not be sure what this new Mila wanted and he wouldn’t say a word until she did. This had become a very strange truce, a unusual tug of war that either had them acting like best friends or ignoring each other completely. 

“I shouldn’t have pretended to build such a boat. It’s beyond my humble capabilities.” Floki was getting more doubtful by the second.

“I’ll set the sail,” Ragnar huffed, standing to do just that. 

“I’m sorry Ragnar. I have wasted all your money. It was all a joke.”

They were practically in open water now, this was a big moment for each of them. Ragnar told Floki to shut up, and Wanheda was holding her breath waiting for the sail to be cast. It fell, flapping in the wind as it unraveled. It caught the wind quickly, and the boat was already picking up speed. Wanheda sat with her legs up on the edge, and closed her eyes, feeling the boat glide along the water. She opened them and looked at Floki, who had stood up.

“HA,” he sang, and ran to the edge of the boat, “Now it runs on it’s cool keel. It’s beautiful. Why didn't you believe me? I told you I could do it.”

Wanheda laughed and rolled her eyes at Floki’s sudden change in mood as he ran to hug her. The pair of them were like excited children, and Ragnar looked at the pair fondly. Wanheda released Floki and let out a breath of contentment as the boat continued to gather momentum. 

She looked at Ragnar, “We can do this.”

Ragnar grinned back and nodded, “Yes, we can.”

 

~~~~

Rollo was sitting in his house waiting for Ragnar and Mila when the latter walked in. He smiled at her as she entered, once more hardly believing that she was here. Mila sat on the other side of the table and faced him. They hadn’t really had a chance to talk together since she had gotten back, as always Ragnar had been the one to hog her attention. 

Rollo kept looking at her, and then looking at the table, as he if was in deep thought. 

“Stop thinking so hard, that’s your brother’s thing,” Mila said. She leaned over and used her finger to smooth his frown line, Rollo chuckling as she did. 

“So what have you been doing all this time?” she said as she pulled back, “I have heard of your many conquests, you are famous amongst the women here.” She was grinning cheekily at him, but she really wanted to know how he was. Were these woman simply trinkets he was collecting, or was he burying something deeper when he buried into them?

“And what about your conquests?” His mouth was smiling, but his eyes were saying something else entirely. 

“You know me, I practically had men draped over my arms like jewels. Never slept in the same bed more than once,” she joked, and Rollo chuckled almost glad she wasn’t telling him.

“Are you back for good?” he sounded hopeful.

“Why? Did you miss me?” she teased, and immediately regretted it. 

“Yes,” he replied softly, “Don’t pretend as if you didn't know.”

She looked down at her hands clasped on the table, ashamed of her poor joke, “I’m sorry.” Somehow, without meaning to, she always seemed to hurt his feelings. There was never any malice, just her obliviousness to how what she said might affect him.

“If it helps,” she looked up to meet his gaze, “I missed you too.”

He slid his hands over the table to gently grasp hers, “I am just glad you’re back.” This made Mila smile, one that was just for him and the kind Rollo loved best.

It was so easy being with him. He made it easy with his forgiveness and his love. She had never deserved it, especially now after twelve years away with little explanation. Her and Ragnar had always been a raging sea storm, hot and cold, one minute loving, the next angry, but always passionate. Rollo was the tide that pulled in, constant and never wavering. Back then she hadn't realised how much she’d needed him until she left. 

“Me too,” she finally answered. And for a while they just sat there, hands clasped, enjoying each others company after all that time.

~~~~

The next thing the expedition needed was raiders. Ragnar had set up a meeting, with trusted men and their sons, in the hopes to convince them to raid west with him and Mila. It wasn’t going to be easy, even if these were men Ragnar had known for most of his life. Most would know Mila too, and he hoped her return would help sway them, she had always been very good at getting people to do what she wanted them to. 

Ragnar had met the others at Rollo’s house. Ragnar, Rollo and Wanheda walked into the house where the men had gathered, some downing drinks while others paced, all curious to know why they were there. They were greeted by Eric, the owner of the house, the one who had gathered all the men and had made each swear to keep this meeting a secret. The room was dim, lit only by candles and youthful exuberance. Wanheda noticed it was mostly young men who were present, and that was better really, a younger man was curious enough to wonder, and prideful enough to seek glory, which was exactly what Ragnar was doing. 

Wanheda and Rollo stood back, while Ragnar stepped in front of the crowd. 

Ragnar started, “You are here firstly because you have nothing better to do, see all you lot live idle and wasteful lives.” This was met with some grumbles, but Rollo cut through them, telling them to listen to Ragnar. 

“Not only have I built a new boat, I even convinced an old friend to return for this cause, one which I’m sure you remember,” he continued.

Wanheda scoffed at how Ragnar was flashing her out like this, as if he had been the one to plan her return, but she supposed he was doing it for dramatic effect. Something he had never lacked. She brought down the hood she had been wearing and stepped forward. Some raised their eyebrows, others held their breath, but the last group were the ones who made Wanheda realise how much she missed home. Men laughed and let out a cheer, some raising their glasses and others standing to greet her. She grinned as she hugged some old friends, and the questions about where she had been started before she had even let out a breath. 

A few moments later she spoke, “There is no time for questions now men, I know this is a big moment for you,” she was met with laughs as she continued, “But we really must listen to what Ragnar has to say.”

The group settled and Ragnar said, “With this boat, and with Mila, we can sail west.” This too was met with laughter, though Ragnar would have preferred to be taken more seriously.

“There is a country called England. Full of riches and treasures. And we are going to sail there.”

A few men scoffed as others spoke up, “How would we steer across the open sea?”

Ragnar only looked smug as he raised a cup to his lips as he spoke, “We have discovered a way.”

“You want us to join you on the boat?” said a man, who Mila recognised from her youth. 

“Yes we do,” Rollo was sitting down, “And I have Ragnar’s word that we will all be equal. And share equally the spoils of our raid.”

“If there are any,” said a man, who had leant against a railing. Ragnar asked for his name, to which he said Knut. Wanheda… Mila, she didn’t know who she was in this moment, stepped forward. 

“And what makes you think there will not be?” she looked around the room to each face.

“These are just stories,” Knut answered.

“Well stories are a wonderful thing,” she answered, piquing everyones interest, most of all Ragnar’s. “Everything we know is a story. The gods are just stories, but do we question them? Can any claim to have seen Odin, to have witnessed his deeds? Yet in our hearts we believe him to exist. Stories originate from truth,” Wanheda pulled the maps out from her cloak and waved them, “And I have your truth right here.”

Men leaned forward to inspect the maps, and she handed them to a few to pass around. 

“We have to remember though,” another man spoke, “That Earl Haraldsson has ordered us to sail east.”

“Is it brave to do what countless others have done before us?” Wanheda stood firmly in front of the group, “If you want glory, riches for your children, the gods eyes on you, you will sail west with us.”

Ragnar hadn’t taken his eyes of her the whole time. He was elated, because this was his Mila. The woman who could call any man to arms, who could inspire and excite even the stubbornest of men. He grinned, and stepped forward to stand beside her, where he hadn’t been in such a long time. 

“Have you got the balls to join us?” His eyes glinted as he addressed them, and his trademark smile lifted his lips.

One man stepped forward, “I’ll go.”

“And I,” another said. And so on until every man in the room had spoken his promise to ride with them. The excitement in the room was palpable, the idea of going where none had gone before and the glory that would entail was throbbing through the minds of every man. 

Ragnar smiled at Mila before he spoke, “Prepare to leave in the next few weeks, and tell no one who doesn't need to know.”

~~~~

 

As Ragnar and Mila left, Ragnar was buzzing with excitement. She hadn’t felt more like her old self than she did right now. It was just them, walking through a dark and quiet Kattegat, dreaming about what the future held.   
“This is going to work Mila, all that waiting and its finally going to be.” Ragnar’s grins were infectious, and Mila found herself smiling along with him. 

“And you, you were brilliant!” He was grabbing her arms and shaking her, they were both laughing, both hyped up by the events that had just taken place. 

The evening was chilly, but neither noticed, the two both un-admittedly enthralled about dreaming and talking like they were still teenagers. It was the first time that she had been back there was no tension between them, because they were high on the success of the evening, too complacent to remember their circumstances.

Mila didn’t notice the many glances Ragnar sent her way as they planned the next step of their expedition. They talked more of what had passed, and spoke of the quality of each man that had pledged to join them.

Ragnar soon forgot himself, itching with want after seeing her inspire the group, desperate for her warmth he took a step forward. His lips barely grazed hers before she had widened hers eyes, took a step back and put a hand on his chest before she even had time to think. 

“No,” she said, and reality reminded Ragnar that this was a different woman. One who did not want him. But he couldn’t help himself, his blunder was forcing them to remember the past, it was being dredged up right before their eyes. 

Mila saw the hurt in Ragnar’s eyes, but told herself she had to be strong. 

Ragnar couldn’t help himself, “Why are you back?” He was desperate, rejection was causing him to act irrationally. The atmosphere changed so quickly that Mila shivered at how much colder it now seemed. He grabbed her face and was stared into her eyes, searching for a reason. Something, anything, to give him the answer he was looking for.

“I told you, I-“ she began, but she could barely finish.

He was stepping forward, backing her against a wall of a house they had been passing, stubbornly saying, “No, no, that is not why Mila. Tell me the truth. You came back here for me, say it. Please. Just say it so I don't have to be angry anymore, and I can just-“

“Ragnar stop it,” she admonished. Somehow they had gotten to this point, so quickly and without even trying they were breaking the fragile friendship of the last few days.

“I have been trying to ignore you, but I can’t, I never could. You’re in my head all the time. Did you even think about me?” One of his hands moved from her face to a strand of her hair, which he ran between his fingers, “I missed your hair,” he inhaled it, “I missed you everyday. In all my anger I couldn’t stop. Why did you leave Mila?”

Mila was so torn, she wanted to reassure him that she left for him. He was leaning his forehead against hers, pleading her to give him an answer, waiting for her to explain the past twelve years of pain away. But if she did there was no telling what they would do, what lines they would cross, and she would not cross those lines. Lagertha didn’t deserve that, Bjorn and Gyda didn’t deserve that. 

“I had to Ragnar, I had to. You were getting married, it was the best thing-“

He released her, angry at her flimsy excuse, “You think I did not notice you and Rollo becoming closer? You were pulling away, we met Lagertha and you pulled away. You think I would have married her if you had stayed?”

Mila felt like she had been slapped. Because she didn’t want to know this. In her head it hadn’t been anyones fault, all this time she had considered the situation blameless. To think it was her fault that Ragnar became engaged? That she had pushed him right into her arms, and dug her own grave? Caused herself to leave? But that wasn’t right- no- they had been falling in love right before her eyes and the pain had caused her to leave. Rollo had told her just as much, about his brothers feelings for Lagertha, so she hadn’t been the only one to see it. No, he was bluffing, he had wanted to marry Lagertha. 

“It wasn’t you who was losing me, I was losin-“ she yelled, but he cut her off.

“What could have possibly made you think that I would have chosen anyone but you?” His eyes were so intense with rage, with hurt, confusion, love, misery, it hurt her just to look at them.

 

Mila’s own eyes were wide with confusion and pain. She couldn’t do this right now, she wasn’t ready to relive the past. How could one almost-kiss turn them back into the jealous, passionate kids they had once been? She also felt herself becoming angry, because he was screwing everything up. Her leaving, it had’t been all on her, she would not let him make all of it her fault. She needed to stop the conversation, otherwise they would both say something they would regret. The only way to do that was to make him think she didn’t love him, so that he would give up, and then, hopefully, they could go back to pretending they were still friends.

With a burst of energy she pushed him back “I didn’t come back for you!” she yelled. It may or may not have been a lie, but it was an effective one. He looked like he had both never expected her to say that, and as if he had been dreading she would this whole time. Mila couldn’t stand another second. She took off, barely allowing him a chance to take in what she had said.

He watched her as she ran from him, “You’re just going to leave again?” He was calling after her, waiting for a reaction that she was too stubborn to give. 

“Mila!” he yelled one more time, before hitting his head and then his fists against the wall, then closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. He was fuming, anger had clouded his head. She didn’t love him, thats what she had pretty much told him. His biggest fear had come to realisation and he couldn’t even believe how they had gotten here after laughing minutes before. It had been like that in their youth too, one minute they would be plotting, and the next bickering as if there was no lost love between them. 

What had she said? His marriage had caused her to leave? But that couldn’t be right. In all those years Ragnar had been torn between blaming her, and blaming himself for her departure. He reminded himself what he thought had happened, only to reassure himself. Twelve years ago Rollo and Mila had been becoming closer, it had started when Lagertha had moved to the village, but Ragnar had never thought that had been the reason. For the first time Ragnar wondered if he remembered the past correctly… if any of them did. If everything that had happened with Mila was chalked up to a misunderstanding, Ragnar felt that that would hurt more than his version of the truth. Ragnar had been raiding all his adult life, and lost time was the one thing you couldn’t pillage. If there had been no reason for his past twelve years of sleepless nights, and whispered prayers, well that was the worst heartbreak he could imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this baby just writes itself!! but don't worry folks, i have a feeling they'll make up soon :)


	6. The Seer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is a bit late! Uni has started and I am already snowed under:) Hope you like it x

Wanheda hadn’t been to see Ragnar in the days after their argument. He only knew she was still around because she had been to see Floki and he had told him. Both kept having many mood swings as they remembered their words to each other, they flew between sadness and rage at the strangest of moments. Bjorn had seen Ragnar curse at a tree for growing too high and thought his father mad. 

Wanheda had faired slightly better. Years of travelling alone allowed her to conceal her feelings, as she never usually had anyone to express them to. Though admittedly she had found herself clenching her fist a few times. She didn’t know what to do next. Her mind betrayed her and she found herself thinking about what Ragnar would do if there positions were reversed. Though she supposed they were actually in very similar positions. 

The Seer, she thought suddenly, that’s what Ragnar would do. It’s what he always did whenever he was unsure about anything. She had often chided him for it, thinking it unnecessary, always telling him that he should make his own path. Maybe she had been wrong, after all, that’s what she had done and look how things ended up. 

She had only been to the Seer once before, when she had been making the biggest decision of her life, and had felt unsure enough to seek the Gods advice. She knew the Seer would definitely bring that up, and almost made her decide against going. But she was stuck, and didn’t really have any other options unless she just picked up and left again. But she didn’t want to do that, and there were more people to hurt this time. Floki for one thing, and Bjorn for another. Sweet Bjorn who she had promised to train. She didn’t want to break that promise. So she stood up from a lake she had been sitting by, sighed, brushed herself off, and began walking the journey to the Seer. 

It only took her an hour to reach him. Upon entering she had winced at the sight of him, forgetting how truly ugly he was. He beckoned her in to take a seat, as if he knew she was coming.  
She sat down and took in the whole room, analysing for danger as she did when she was feeling uncertain. 

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” the Seer said, and she suspected he was making a joke. One, because, well, of his sight and the other because he knew of her disregard for the Gods and religion in general. She didn’t treat them seriously, so he didn’t treat her that seriously. She had only mentioned Odin in her meeting with the potential raiders, because she knew they would respond to that.

Wanheda forced a smile, “Have you done something to your hair? Because it just looks great.” She was always so quick to be defensive, and she knew he felt like he was winning, simply for the fact that she was feeling vulnerable enough to see him. 

“Now now child, you came to seek my help. I would think carefully about what you wish to ask me.”

Wanheda lifted her eyebrow, “Aren’t you already supposed to know what I’m going to ask?” 

The Seer smiled, if you could call his grimace smiling, “I want to hear you say it.”

Wanheda sighed, she knew she should take this more seriously. He wasn’t exactly inclined to help her as it is. 

Her voice grew quiet, “We, that is, Ragnar and I, we had a fight.”

“And?” The Seer was relishing in her discomfort. He was always like this with non-believers.

“And,” she repeated annoyedly, “I want to know if I made the right decision in coming back.”

“Hm.”

“Forget it, I’m leaving,” Wanheda began to stand.

“Sit child, and listen,” he spoke, and she didn’t look at him as she did what she was told. 

“You once came to me before, asking a very similar question. You asked me if you would be happier if you left Kattegat and your home.”

“And you said ‘Perhaps, or perhaps not, but you would be stronger,’” Wanheda said, remembering how cold his words had felt, and how much they had confused her. 

“You picked strength over love, and it is evident through your reputation. Wanheda is feared, but she is not loved. Maybe by some folk, who think of you as a hero, but not in the way the people you left behind loved you. Do you regret that decision?”

Wanheda thought for a moment, “Sometimes I do, but other times… I’m glad that I became Wanheda. She fights for people who cannot fight for themselves. And the person I was back then, she and Ragnar would have strangled each other, much less been married. I had to leave for myself. So I did, I chose strength.”

The Seer looked pleased, “And there lies your answer.”

Wanheda frowned, “So, what, I should pick strength again? But which is strength? Is it staying behind or is it leaving again?”

“Strength is often the harder choice.”

And Wanheda knew in that instant that she would stay. Because this time, leaving would be easy. It wasn’t like before, when she had been leaving her family and home to start a journey the Seer had told her would make her stronger. This time leaving would be running away. 

Staying was the harder choice. Staying would take strength. And so she would stay.

As she began to leave the Seer called out after her, “Does he know the real reason you’re back Mila?”

She kept walking.

~~~~

Ragnar was busy trying to convince Lagertha that she was to stay behind. He hadn’t told his wife of his fight with Mila, hadn’t told anyone. He didn’t know what to make of it, didn’t know if Mila would even stay around long enough to sail west like they had planned. He had been stupid when he tried to kiss her, what did he really expect anyway. He knew Mila would never be with him as long as he was married. She was too good a person in that regard, and though it was one of the reasons Ragnar loved her, it had also caused a lot of trouble for him over the years. 

If Mila actually asked him, he wondered if he would leave his wife. Though he loved Mila, she had also been gone for 12 years, and they weren’t exactly compatible. They were too much like each other, too stubborn and too hot-headed that they would drive each other crazy. Lagertha had been good to him. She was strong and wise, and he was lucky such a woman had married him, even when he had spent their whole marriage wanting another woman. He would make sure she was taken care of if he left her… but he was getting ahead of himself. Mila certainly wasn't asking him to leave her, in fact she had done the exact opposite when she had rejected him. 

He was putting on a good mood as he and Lagertha were doing laundry, and he was trying to tell her she couldn’t come raiding with him. He thought that would make her take it easier.

“I need to leave the children and the farm in the hands of someone I trust,” he lilted, “What if the Earl figures out we have gone without his permission? He might try and steal the family home.”

Lagertha walked up to him, putting her face right in his view, “This was going to be the most exciting voyage of our lives. To go west!” She flicked water in his face from the bucket he was using to wash, making him look up at her own face. 

“What if we get hurt? Or worse both die from the raiding, who will take care of the children then?” he argued, though she knew it wasn’t the only reason. 

“It’s because of her, isn't it? It was your dream, I know that, I am not blind.”

Ragnar felt himself sigh, mostly because he didn’t want to talk of Mila now. Though he hadn’t seen her, he was still hopeful she would show up at the last minute, and come on the voyage with him. 

“Lagertha please, someone needs to stay-“

“I see the way you look at her Ragnar! I can tell by your face when your thinking of her, I know that you still love her. And I am just supposed to let you sail west with her? Let you take her as you please?”

Ragnar grabbed her chin roughly, the way they often were with each other.  
“You know that is not my way, not Mila’s way. You were right it has been our dream to sail west. Am I just supposed to tell her not to come?” he said all this, even when he didn’t even know if she was going. 

Something in Lagertha’s face changed. Ragnar wasn’t going to budge on this, she could tell, so she decided to keep her pride.

“Fine, I will not go with you, but while you are out west raiding with your lost love, I hope you remember that you have a wife at home who is taking care of your children,” she said cooly, her voice hardened with resolve. She lifted her chin, and left the room, leaving Ragnar as he watched her go. 

~~~~

It was a windy day the day they were to set sail. There was something in the air, the stream hummed and the wind howled as if the Gods were giving their blessing. Men carried supplies onto the boat as Ragnar watched on. He was nervous, not just because Mila wasn’t here, but also because Knut wasn’t and Ragnar feared he had gone to the Earl.

Floki’s anchor had arrived and he was busy putting the boat together. Ragnar didn’t notice Rollo walk up to him as he was watching.

“Where is Mila, Ragnar?” Rollo asked, not yet knowing the events that had occurred between them.

“Perhaps she will arrive soon,” Ragnar said hopefully, all anger faded now that he was worried he might be sailing west without her. 

Rollo caught the tone of his voice, “What did you do?”

Ragnar turned to look at his brother, trying to keep his voice light, “Worry not brother. She will be here. I’m sure of it,” though he had never been less sure of anything in his life. 

Rollo just looked at him, unamused, “She better be Ragnar. I will not go sailing without her.”

He turned to walk to the boat, Ragnar sighed as he did. Floki walked up to him, having finished with the anchor. 

“It’s time to go Ragnar.” Ragnar looked at his friend, and then through the woods one last time, hoping to see Mila’s face.

“Okay,” he nodded, and begun walking towards the boat.

~~~~

Wanheda was riding quickly, the wind whipped through her hair as she picked up speed. She reached Ragnar’s house and jumped off her horse, ran to the door and knocked.

It was Bjorn who answered, “What are you doing here?” he asked confusedly.

“Bjorn, where is your father?” Wanheda was short of breath, and her voice came out forced. 

Bjorn frowned, “Down by the river, where you should be.”

Wanheda internally cursed, and ran back to her horse, mounting it hurriedly.

“Thank you Bjorn,” she almost began riding, but quickly said, “I will not forget my promise. I’ll come back to train you when the raiding is done.”

He nodded excitedly, “I will be waiting.”

She gave him a smile, and rode off down through the forest. The horse was old, but it still had life in her. Wanheda hoped she was fast enough, and that they had not already set sail. She manoeuvred the horse through the trees, trying to remember the exact place along the river Floki had docked the boat.

She was getting nearer, the wind was picking up the closer she got to the opening of the forest. She rode out past the last trees, simultaneously cursing and whooping as she saw the boat, but realising it had already begun to set sail. She could make out the figures, and barely the faces. She could just make out Ragnar, saw him leaning along the side of the boat. It was about 50 metres away from the shore. She rode out to the edge of the sea, the horse’s hooves making the sand sing.

“Hey!” she called out, “Hey wait!” Though the passengers could barely hear her, she saw Ragnar shoot his head up. She had been right in her thinking the voyage was blessed, as the wind headed directly west, making the boat have plenty of speed. She also realised that because of the direction of the wind, there was no easy way for them to turn back, even paddling would take up to an hour. So she did the only thing she could. She jumped off her horse, luckily Floki’s slave was nearby and she knew she would take care of it. Wanheda along the dock, took a deep breath as she prayed the water wasn’t cold, and jumped in. 

She swam with all her might, the wind was definitely on her side. She got about 20 metres away from the boat when all the men caught sight of her, and began laughing and cheering her on. She felt like laughing too, but she also didn’t feel like choking on the water so she remained steadfast. This was one of the more ridiculous things she had done, she knew she would be made fun of for weeks. But it was getting her there, and she would not miss out on this expedition. 

Ragnar’s face was lit up like a full moon, he too couldn’t help but laugh, his troubles seeming far gone. Mila was here, and she was swimming towards him like a god damn fish. As she reached the side of the boat Ragnar used his arms to pull her up. She stumbled on the wood as she made it over the edge. They were gripping each others arms, looking into each others faces and laughing. Not as boisterously as the other men, but enough that Mila’s sides began to hurt.

Ragnar’s bright eyes looked into hers, “You are crazy.”

Mila chuckled, “And you were sailing west without me.”

There was an unspoken conversation between them, telling each other to forget about what happened. Water was dripping off of Mila, and Ragnar’s arms were wet. And so was the tumultuous nature of their relationship, able to anger and forgive so easily, to be mortal enemies or the very best of friends so readily.

“How could I go anywhere without you?” he laughed. He could tell she wanted to hug him, but didn’t want to get him wet. He pulled her too him and whispered in her ear, “All is forgiven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are both too good at compartmentalising their feelings, hence why their relationship is able to change so rapidly. But I reckon it will all catch up to them soon !


	7. The West

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally made it! The west is here! For like.. ten minutes. That was really funny to me in the show, the first time they went west they were there for like a day. But I digress... hope you enjoy x Any feedback is really appreciated as I have no idea if this is actually good?? ahahaha

The voyage had been long, hope had almost been lost. Ragnar had killed one of the crew, who had become almost mad with hopelessness. Mila had looked fretfully on that sight, but Wanheda knew it had been necessary. Better than the alternative, which was them all turning on each other and more blood being shed. The storms had gotten to them all, the harsh rain and the rocky waves making even the strongest stomach turn. The storm had been beating down on them, so much that even Ragnar had begun to question his own mind. They had released the ravens they had taken with them, if they didn’t come back that meant there was land west. It had been a few hours and there had been no sight of them, Wanheda took that as a good sign. 

She sat with Floki, neither of them rowing due to being underestimated by the others. Floki because though he had a great mind, he was no where near the strongest of men, and Mila because she was a woman and they did not yet know of her second identity. They also hadn’t seen her fight since she was a young girl, and had forgotten the strength she displayed in her youth. She supposed they thought they were being chivalrous, and in that case it wasn’t like she minded. Though she knew she was stronger than the best of them, she took their derogation for granted since it meant she didn’t have to row, and wouldn’t get sore arms that would plague the rest of the crew. Ragnar, who knew Mila’s true strength, could see what she was doing, and laughed at her trickery. 

Though the storms had died down, the waves still rocked the boat, “And what do the Gods say of the weather Floki, perhaps Odin is angry.”

She was teasing him, she knew her contempt for the Gods frustrated him to no end. In the early days it had almost stopped them from becoming the friends they were now. 

“Why Wanheda,” he said her name quietly enough so no one heard, “They are celebrating our voyage, Odin is showing us that not even he can stop this boat.”

Wanheda laughed, “What a strange way to show approval.”

Floki rolled his eyes at her, but smiled just the same. Where other non-believers conjured something close to hatred from Floki, Wanheda had always seemed like a challenge. She respected his Gods, that was the difference, even if she didn’t necessarily believe in them she never tried to dispute their existence to him, apart from the occasional tease of course. 

“The Gods will have you yet Wanheda.”

Ragnar looked on the two curiously. To his knowledge they had only met a few times, but they talked and laughed like old friends, though he could not hear what they were saying. He didn’t think much of it however, Mila had always been good at making friends. 

Ragnar heard a noise in the distance, a squawk that sounded familiar. He stood and walked to the front of the boat where Wanheda and Floki were lounging, his eyes and ears perking up. The rest of the crew could hear it too, many began standing, as did Wanheda and Floki. 

The cheering began when they saw the birds. They circled and swooped, their noise drowned out by the men’s roars. Wanheda found herself smiling, a true smile that was rare for her. She looked at Ragnar, whose eyes were greedily taking in the scene before them. He was looking for the faintest trace of land, which soon came into their sights. As if by instinct his eyes met hers and though he smiled it was his eyes that struck her. They were alight and shining, mirroring her own as they looked at each other and realised they had made their dream true. As Ragnar looked at her a million thoughts raced through his head, the most frightening and inevitable of which was that he had never been more in love with her than he was in that moment. When would he learn?

~~~~~~  
The made it to the shore with little trouble. The sand crunched under Wanheda’s boots and she almost wanted to take her shoes off and feel it for herself. But that was not what they were here for. 

When they had gotten off the boat Rollo had picked her up and hugged her, also excited that they had made it. She had let him, surprised he was being so open to her, but she realised he had known Ragnar was looking on, and Rollo had seen the look they exchanged on the boat. Once again she was reminded by how much Rollo had changed, there was a new malice about him, one that, so far, he hid well. 

She ignored it, not wishing to explore it and just happy that they had finally reached land. 

It was not long before they found the church. It was a strange building, with harsh edges and and glass windows. She wondered what sort of people were inside such a building. The raiders were geared up for a battle, swords, axes and shields at the ready. But as they got closer, Wanheda suspected that they would not need them. And she was right.

It was a slaughter. The second they opened the doors to be greeted by round headed monks, she knew that they would not put up a fight. Rollo was the first to kill one of them, and most of the men followed suit. Their supposed enemies ran around flailing like lost puppies. Most would have never touched a sword in their lives. Wanheda couldn't bring herself to join in the killing, and when she looked at Ragnar she knew he wouldn’t either. 

But she did not turn away, and didn’t show any sign of weakness. She watched as their men axed the monks down, slit their throats, and bashed their heads. This couldn’t be the men of the west, she thought, she had heard they were strong and experienced in battle. She looked as one raider taunted one of the little men, who was crouched and talking into his hand. No, not talking, praying. She realised these must be priests, the keepers of their God.

Ragnar, who still stood by the door, called her name and the two other men next to him, and began to walk out, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to enjoy this particular slaughter either. As she turned to leave her eyes met Rollo’s, they looked at each other as she began to follow Ragnar, and she frowned at the bloodlust in his eyes, not knowing that she was the one who had caused it. 

She didn’t know where she was following Ragnar too, but as they walked men were being dragged and killed all around them. She was no stranger to blood shed, had fought in many battles and killed countless men, but theses priests were a lot like the folk she had protected in her time away from Kattegat. Scared, weak, but most of all innocent. 

Ragnar had led her, and the the other two men to a building away from the main battle. If you could call it a battle when one side wasn’t putting up a fight. There were crosses on the wall, Wanheda recognised them as a symbol for their God. These men were christians, just like the maps had told her. The room had a few treasures, goblets, chests and the like. 

“I don’t understand,” one of the men, Leif, said, “Why would they leave such treasures unprotected?”

Wanheda picked up a goblet, “Perhaps they believe their God protects them,” she said as she heard a nearby scream from one of the priests being slaughtered.

“Their God is dead, nailed to a cross,” Leif replied, gesturing to one of the crosses on the wall. “He is not alive like Odin, Thor or Freyr.”

The other man chuckled, but Ragnar and Wanheda’s ears picked up as they heard a noise. Ragnar looked to Wanheda as if asking for permission, and she nodded at him as he went behind a wooden structure and pulled out one of the priests.

He fell to the ground, and they stared at him as he spoke their native tongue. 

Wanheda walked towards him, “You speak our language?”

The priest stared at her, and she could not figure out why. Ragnar huffed and pulled a knife to his throat, “How do you speak our language?”

The priest told them he had travelled, “Please don’t kill me,” he whispered. 

Ragnar looked at Mila once more, a question in his eyes.

“Keep him alive,” she told him, and he was glad they had both seemed to be thinking the same thing. This priest could be very useful to them, and if she was honest with herself she didn’t want anymore blood shed. 

The priest, once again, was staring at her, the men all seemed to take notice.

“Perhaps he has not seen a woman before?” Leif joked, but she ignored him as she looked back at the priest. 

“What is that you have in your hand?” she asked. 

“A b-book,” he stuttered, “The gospel of Saint John. I wanted to save it.”

Ragnar snatched the book and flicked through it as if looking for treasure, “You chose to save this? Why?”

When the priest didn’t answer Ragnar hoisted him up by his robes and slammed him against the wooden structure, “Why?”

“Because without the word of God, there is only darkness.” And though Wanheda believed in no Gods, christian or otherwise, she found herself shaken by his explanation. 

Rollo entered and Wanheda found herself instinctively standing in front of the priest as Ragnar turned to look at his brother. 

“We have been everywhere and found no women,” Rollo looked at Mila as he said so, “Just these strange men.”

Ragnar noticed his eyes on Mila, “I believe they are the priests of their God.” He narrowed his eyes at Rollo as he said so.

“Take what you will, this is what we came for,” Rollo told others as they entered, and walked toward his brother with a swagger in his step. Mila couldn’t understand why Rollo was acting so strangely, but Ragnar didn’t seem surprised. Had Rollo been hiding his changed self from her all this time?

“Why have you not killed this one yet?”

“He is worth more alive, to sell as a slave,” Ragnar reasoned. 

“I want to kill him,” Rollo growled. He was challenging Ragnar, but it wasn’t really about the priest, of course it wasn’t. Ever since Mila had reached the boat after swimming in the sea, Rollo had suspected something happened between her and Ragnar. And just like 12 years ago he was reacting in the worst possible way, and he knew it.

“We have no room left on the boat,” Rollo said. There isn’t room for both of us Ragnar.  
“I forbid it,” Ragnar said. 

“How can you forbid it little brother? We are all equals, and I say he dies.” Rollo made a start to the priest.

Mila stepped in between them, “I forbid it.”

Rollo’s eyes blazed, then softened, “Mila-“

“Pick your battles Rollo,” she sounded threatening, sounded more like Wanheda than she had since she arrived. He stepped back and then launched himself at one of the crosses on the wall, hacking it with his axe.

The priest fumbled behind her, “Th- thank you.”

She didn’t turn to look at him or Ragnar, “Don’t thank me priest.” And with those words, she walked out.

 

~~~~

They were back on the boat. All that fuss about making it west and they had stayed there for less than a day. They had treasure, thats what they were here for. But Mila felt disappointed. She had wanted to explore the lands, the people and the culture. Surely there were things worth more than riches. At least they had taken the priest, she could ask him questions, learn more about his world. 

She turned to him then, and found he was already looking at her, “Why do you stare priest?”   
He timidly looked away, and she sighed at his cowardliness. 

She closed her eyes and thought back on the day. She hadn’t realised Rollo had become so hardened, he hadn’t shown her this side of him since she had been back. She wondered if that maliciousness had been present when they were growing up. He’d always been strong and cocky, but never cruel. Was that her fault? Had she done that to him?

She looked back on the days before she had left. He had told her Ragnar loved Lagertha, had he been lying? No, she would not put that on him, he cared about her, she was being foolish. Still, the little pissing contest between him and Ragnar had made her angry.

The tensions were high, Rollo was not looking at her, even Ragnar didn’t make Mila’s eyes. It was… awkward. And boring. She could not make the whole voyage like this.

She turned back to the priest, “What is your name?”

He spoke so quietly she barely heard him, “Athelstan.”

“Well Athelstan, you and I are going to have a nice long chat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rollo is a really complicated character for me, I never really know what to make of him. What about you guys?


End file.
